


Not Broken, Just Different

by afteriwake



Series: In So Few Words [215]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Broken Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Changing Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Drinking & Talking, Epilogue, F/M, Gentleness, Hopeful Jack Robinson, POV Phryne Fisher, Phryne Is Not Broken, Platonic Soulmates, Post Episode: s03e08 Death Do Us Part, Post-Episode: s01e08 Away With the Fairies, Pre-Episode: s01e10 Death by Miss Adventure, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson, Unusual Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Growing up, Phryne was convinced she was broken because her soulmate mark never pointed anywhere than behind her. But as she grew older, she began to realize she wasn't broken, just different...and she wasn't alone in that regard.





	Not Broken, Just Different

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theconsultingstrangevidder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theconsultingstrangevidder/gifts), [Dreamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/gifts).



> **theconsultingstrangevidder** asked for a Phrack soulmate AU, and I had the perfect prompt to use from a sentence starter sent by **Dreamin** ( _‘Anything broken can be repaired, if you know what you’re doing.’_ ).

_‘Anything broken can be repaired, if you know what you’re doing.’_

Her mother had been saying that ever since Phryne was little, at the age when Phryne understood when her location mark never varied as she ended up traveling far and wide. No matter where she went, the mark that indicated where her soulmate was was always pointing behind her. When she was young she had thought, perhaps, it was one of the Collinwood boys she gallivanted about with who would always run behind her and tug her hair. When she first met Mac, she wondered if it was her because Mac came from behind her and slipped her a note about Francine wanting to get into a tussle behind the school.

But no, none of that panned out.

As she got older she kept to wearing clothing that covered the mark on the inside of her wrist, losing herself first in the toils of the war, and then in a haze of booze and lust. She was quite thankful it had never changed for Rene; she was sure the man had no soul by the time she freed herself from him. And then she simply stopped caring. Who was she to look for a soulmate, anyway? She never wanted to settle, never wanted to be tied to anyone whether some outdated system said she should be or not. 

The day she met Dot and Hugh and Jack and Bert and Cec, that was the first time she felt the mark _do_ anything. It branched out a bit in multiple directions but still did not move. That was strange, she had to admit. She had never heard of this happening to anyone, and late at night, she would do some research as she tried to sleep in the luxurious hotel room that was not her home.

And then it branched out again with Jane and Mr. Butler, and she quickly realized that her soulmates were not to be romantic. Her soulmates were her found family. But Dot’s pointed to Hugh, and Bert’s was fixed solely on Alice, and she wondered why theirs didn’t split. It was peculiar and so, when she had fits of restful sleep, she would wake up and try and learn more. There was so little on the soul marks published, and though she could get any book she chose to lay her pretty hands on, even forbidden books under the decency laws in Australia, these books were almost beyond her reach.

Almost.

It was one night after Rene had returned into her life when she and Jack had settled into realizing The Kiss was not to be talked about, that the knowledge of soul marks came up. She had taken to using make-up to cover hers, but it was with surprise that Jack had rolled up his shirtsleeves as the unexpected heat wave rolling through Melbourne had even made the evenings muggy.

“Did your soul mate ever point to anyone?” Jack asked, lounging with a wonderful drink made with crème de menthe liqueur.

She shook her head and then reached for the handkerchief in his suit jacket pocket, rubbing off the makeup on her wrist. “It’s done this in recent months, though, and I can’t get an explanation.”

Jack stared at her wrists, then turned his wrist up, showing he had the same. “It changed the first time I met Hugh at the station,” he said slowly. “And then the first time I met those rabble-rousing cabbies you ride around with, it changed again. Then--”

“When you met Dot and I,” she said, reaching over to trace the mark she had only seen on her own wrist.

“And then Jane, and Mr. Butler.” He watched her trace the shape. “My wife and I, we decided to marry despite not being mated...that way. She wasn’t happy it changed with men. I doubt she’d be much happier if she knew you changed it as well.”

“My mother would be absolutely thrilled to know we’re not broken, though,” Phryne said, looking up at him with a smile, her fingers on his pulse point. “As she always said, ‘Anything broken can be repaired, if you know what you’re doing.’”

“A wise woman,” Jack said with a nod, using his other hand to bring his drink to his lips.

“Yes,” Phryne agreed. “I wonder if we'll ever have true soulmates, the way we’re supposed to.”

She looked up at him and saw a soft smile on his face. “Maybe one day, if we’re lucky.” And she smiled back, hoping he was right.

**\---**

When Jack kissed her by the plane, and her glove and coat exposed her wrist as she flew away from him, she saw her mark had one arrow, larger than the rest, and it was pointed squarely behind her in Jack’s direction, moving as she turned onto the course she needed to take to fly her father back to England. The smile on her face was beaming and bright, knowing the mark would always lead her back to Jack. 


End file.
